Posted on 10/14/2005 5:56:14 AM PDT by BJClinton
When did I get so old? I mean really, party 'til sunrise was a way of life. Last night we had a little batchelor party for one of the last of my high-school friends to get married. Let's just say this hurts. I'm going to go get some aspirin, water and try to find that phone that just won't stop ringing. Meanwhile, let the silliness commence.
"Three Corpses"
Three smiling corpses are lying in a morgue in Alabama, and a detective goes into the coroner's to find the causes of death. The coroner points to the first dead man.
"This is Cletus," he says. "He died of shock after winning $20 million on the lottery."
He then moves on to the second smiling corpse. "This is Bo," the coroner says with a grin. "He died having a 'good time' with Trudy-May."
Finally he moves on to the last smiling corpse. "This is Roscoe," says the coroner. "He died after being struck by lightning."
"Well," asks the detective, "Why in heck was the fool smiling?"
"Oh," says the coroner. "He thought he was having his picture taken."
"Vermont Vs. Texas"
The Texan visiting Vermont asked a farmer how large an acreage he cultivated. The Vermonter said meditatively, "Oh, it's quite large. My farm extends for about a hundred yards in that direction and for nearly a hundred-twenty yards in that. And how large an acreage do you handle?"
The Texan could not help but smile. "Back home," he said, "I have a ranch with my house at one end. I can get into my car at the house, turn the ignition key, step on the gas, and at the end of the day, still not have reached the other end."
The Vermont farmer nodded sympathetically. "Tough! I once had a car like that, too!"
More likely is is one big, family sized casket that you have to assemble yourself.
The day finally arrived; Forrest Gump dies and goes to Heaven. He is at the Pearly Gates, met by St. Peter himself. However, the gates are closed and Forrest approaches the Gatekeeper.
St. Peter says, "Well, Forrest, it's certainly good to see you. We have heard a lot about you I must tell you, though, that the place is flling up fast, and we've been administering an entrance examination for everyone. The test is short, but you have to pass it before you can get into Heaven."
Forrest responds, "It shor is good to be here, St. Peter, sir. But nobody ever tolt me about any entrance exam. Shor hope the test ain't too hard; life was a big enough test as it was."
St. Peter goes on, "Yes, I know, Forrest, but the test is only three questions.
First: What two days of the week begin with the letter T?
Second: How many seconds are there in a year?
Third: What is God's first name?"
Forrest leaves to think the questions over. He returns the next day and sees St. Peter, who waves him up and says, "Now that you have had a chance to think the questions over, tell me your answers."
Forrest says, "Well, the first one -- which two days in the week begin with the letter "T"? Shucks, that one's easy. That'd be Today and Tomorrow.
The Saint's eyes open wide and he exclaims, "Forrest, that's not what I was thinking, but you do have a point, and I guess I didn't specify, so I'll give you credit for that answer. How about the next one?" asks St. Peter. "How many seconds in a year?"
"Now that one's harder," says Forrest, "but I thunk and thunk about that and I guess the only answer can be twelve."
Astounded, St. Peter says, "Twelve? Twelve? Forrest, how in Heaven's name could you come up with twelve seconds in a year?"
Forrest says "Shucks, there's gotta be twelve: January 2nd, February 2nd (GREATEST DAY IN THE ENTIRE YEAR!), March nd. . . ."
"Hold it," interrupts St. Peter. "I see where you're going with this, and I see your point, though that wasn't quite what I had in mind.....but I'll have to give you credit for that one, too. Let's go on with the third and final question. Can you tell me God's first name"?
"Sure," Forrest replied, "its Andy."
"Andy?" exclaimed an exasperated and frustrated St. Peter. "OK, I can understand how you came up with your answers to my first two questions, but just how in the world did you come up with the name Andy as the first name of God?"
"Shucks, that was the easiest one of all,"
Forrest replied. "I learnt it from the song. . .ANDY WALKS WITH ME, ANDY TALKS WITH ME, ANDY TELLS ME I AM HIS OWN. . . ."
St. Peter opened the Pearly Gates and said:"Run Forrest, run."
You are Napoleon Dyanamite and a buttload of gangs
are trying to recruit you.
Which Napoleon Dynamite character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Just in case you ever get brave and even THINK about waxing.......
Hair removal 101...(God love the woman who shared this!)
All hair removal methods have tricked us with their promises of easy, painless removal - The Epilate, scissors, razors, Nair and now...the wax.
My night began as any other normal weekday night. Come home fix dinner, played with the kids. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours: Maybe I should pull the wax out of the medicine cabinet. So I headed to the site of my demise; the bathroom. It was one of those cold wax kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the strips together in your hand and then they get warm and you peel them apart press it to your leg (or wherever else) and hair comes right off. No muss, no fuss. How hard can it be? I mean I'm no girlie, girl but I am mechanically inclined enough that I can figure it out. *YA THINK!*
So I pull one of the thin strips out. Its two strips facing each other stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. Cold wax my rear end (Oh, how this phrase haunts me!)
I lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin around it tight and pull. OK, so it wasn't the best feeling, but it wasn't too bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me! I am She-ra, fighter of all wayward body hair and smooth skin extraordinare.
With my next wax strip I move north.
After checking on the kids I sneak back into the bathroom, for the ultimate hair fighting championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet. Using the same procedure, I apply the wax strip across the right side of bikini line, covering the right half of my vagina and stretching down to the inside of my butt cheek. (Yes, it was a long strip.) I inhale deeply and brace myself.
RRRRIIIPPP! I'm blind! Blinded from pain!....OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!
Vision returning, I notice that I've only managed to pull off half of the strip. S&%T!!! Another deep breath and RRIIPP.
Everything is swirling and spotted. Do I hear crashing drums?
OK, back to normal. I want to see my trophy - A wax covered strip with my hairy pelt that has caused me so much pain, sticking to it. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold up the strip!
There's no hair on it.
Where is the damn hair? WHERE IS THE WAX?
Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see the hair, the hair that should be on the strip. I touch. I am touching wax. S&%T! I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair.
Then I make the next BIG mistake....remember my foot is still propped up on the toilet. I know I need to do something. So I put my foot down.
DAMN! I feel the slaming of the cell door. Vagina? Sealed shut! Butt? Sealed shut! I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do and think to myself "please don't let me get the urge to poop. My head may pop off."
Hot water! Hot water melts wax! I'll run the hottest water I can stand into the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax covered bits and the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it off right?
*WRONG!* I get in the tub - the water is slightly hotter then that used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment - I sit. Now, the only thing worse than having your nether regions glued together is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub in scalding hot water. This, by the way, doesn't melt cold wax. So, now I'm stuck to the bottom of the tub!!
God bless the man that convinced me I should have a phone in the bathroom! I call my friend thinking surely she's waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone. It's a very good conversation starter "so, my butt and who-ha are stuck to the bottom of the tub!"
There is a slight pause.
She doesn't have a secret trick but does try to hide the laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is located on bottom, "Are we talking cheeks or hole or what?"
She's laughing out loud by now...I can hear her. I give her the rundown and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box.
YEAH! Right! I should be the joke of someone else's night.
While we go through various solutions, I resort to scraping the wax off with a razor. Nothing feels better then to have your girlie goodies covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water and then dry shaving the sticky wax off! By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike, and I slip into glazed donut land.
My friend is still talking with me and my hand reaches towards the saving grace....the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax. What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on.
OH MY GOD!
The scream probably woke the kids, scared the dickens out of my friend, but I really don't care. "IT WORKS! It works! I
get a hearty congratulation from my friend and she hangs up.
I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my grief and despair...THE HAIR IS STILL THERE...ALL OF IT!
So I shaved it off. Heck, I'm numb at this point.
Next week I'm going to try hair color......
OMG - It GOT ME!
Welcome to Free Republic. You've already found the OFST, so you're off to a good start!
LOL, we don't sell "assemble it yourself" stuff too often, but I think you do have to get the 6 pack coffins with the free extra silk pillow for extra comfort.
:o)
The name for that pic is "gothfag." LOL!
It's real - Map of Fidelity St & Clinton Dr Houston, TX 77029, US
Someday, I'm gonna get a picture of the street signs.
I'm a cat lover, but that's still funny! Looks like a Worth1000.com job.
Ah.. a walk down memory lane.. Just a reminder why I left! Although I do miss the diners. :)
Prayers for your son.
Truly, though, you'd have more to worry about, statistically, if he were being sent to the streets of Washington D.C.
Blessings to both of you and to your family.
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